


on betazoids and the red string of fate

by connorswhisk



Category: Star Trek: The Next Generation
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Episode: s01e23 Skin of Evil, F/F, Red String of Fate, She/Her and They/Them Pronouns for Tasha Yar, Tasha Yar Lives, also sort of a mini character study on troi??, because I love her
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-16
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-24 12:42:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,362
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30072423
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/connorswhisk/pseuds/connorswhisk
Summary: Troi isn’t obsessed with Soulmates - at least, she doesn’t think she is, but she does wonder about them often. Growing up on a planet where no one pays too much mind to that sort of thing and Betazoids are promised to Betazoids with no room for the Strings to be involved has given her a curiosity that she finds hard to rid herself of. And maybe it’s simply the human in her, but Troi wants to know who her Soulmate is, and she wants to know badly.She voices all of these things to Tasha, but Tasha just laughs kindly and says, “You’ve got a thing about Soulmates, don’t you, Counselor?”
Relationships: Deanna Troi/Tasha Yar
Kudos: 9





	on betazoids and the red string of fate

**Author's Note:**

  * For [artificialheaart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/artificialheaart/gifts).



> for julian <3 thanks for giving me tng brainrot king

As a general rule, Betazoids don’t particularly care for Soulmates.

Being a culture that prioritizes telepathy and the mind over love and societal connections, Soulmates have never mattered much to Troi’s people. Growing up, she heard stories of famous pairs of Soulmates across the galaxy - Captain James Tiberius Kirk and Spock, his commanding officer, Nyota Uhura and Dr. Christine Chapel, among others - except her mother had always dismissed them with a careless wave of her hand, brushed them off as folly and insignificant, as most Betazoids do.

“But, Mother, don’t _you_ have a Soulmate?” Troi had asked as a young girl, when she still kept her hair short and wore pleated skirts, instead of more sensible unitards that fit her personality better.

“If I do, it means nothing to me,” Lwaxana had answered offhandedly, elegantly shrugging a robe-draped shoulder. “Your father is gone, Deanna, and I’m not entirely on the prowl for any new toys to play with. If I could see my String, I’m not even sure if I would choose to follow it.”

Troi can’t see the Strings, either - Seers are extremely rare, and there hadn’t been a single being on Betazed with the gift when she was growing up. Troi’s only ever met one Seer, a Vulcan navigator-in-training she’d met at Starfleet, and when Troi had asked, they’d said that they couldn’t tell where her String led to.

Many Seers tend to work in the medical field, so Troi had asked Dr. Crusher if she had the Sight - but Beverly had simply smiled apologetically and shaken her head.

As far as Troi knows, no one on the Enterprise has the gift. If anyone did, they’d probably be a commanding officer on the bridge.

She voices all of these things to Tasha, but Tasha just laughs kindly and says, “You’ve got a thing about Soulmates, don’t you, Counselor?”

Troi flushes and changes the subject, but it all nags at the back of her mind, anyway.

She isn’t _obsessed_ with Soulmates - at least, she doesn’t _think_ she is, but she does wonder about them often. Growing up on a planet where no one pays too much mind to that sort of thing and Betazoids are promised to Betazoids with no room for the Strings to be involved has given her a curiosity that she finds hard to rid herself of. And maybe it’s simply the human in her, but Troi wants to _know_ who her Soulmate is, and she wants to know badly.

For a brief time, she thought that it might have been Will - they had had a brief fling before working on the Enterprise together, and Troi had loved him, had delighted in the way he said her name, and the way his blue eyes sparkled as he smiled, contrasting so heavily with her own dark irises. But Will has always been a man unable to settle down with anyone in particular, and Troi had respected that, and they’d both decided upon reconnecting with each other that they’d be better off as friends; when she met him again, Troi had asked him if he’d found his Soulmate. Will had replied, “Have you?”

And they’d left it at that. It’s entirely possible that Will and Troi truly are Soulmates - but somehow, she imagines that it isn’t so.

Then there had been Wyatt, sweet, caring, kind Wyatt, and although they were bonded to each other, she had never been his, nor had he ever been hers. Troi was half-Betazoid and Wyatt was from a human culture that didn’t trouble itself with Strings, either - to their parents, it had seemed perfect, but they knew better, and when Wyatt had discovered Ariana and the rest of the surviving Terellians, Troi had watched him leave with his Soulmate with a smile on her face.

Not many of the officers on the bridge discuss Soulmates - Dr. Crusher had lost her husband to the war, and it’s generally assumed that Worf has some other Klingon for a mate somewhere in the galaxy, and Data laments that Soulmates are the one thing that they, as an android, might never truly be able to grasp, and there’s an ongoing pool within the crew on what the Captain’s deal is (50% (Troi included) seem to agree that he is Dr. Crusher’s second Soulmate, 35% are betting that it’s some long-lost lover that Captain Picard met at Starfleet that he’s been quietly yearning for for decades, while the remaining 15% think that it’s Q); but to most, it’s a fairly trivial subject. You find your other half when you find them, and until then, you’ve just got to wait.

Except Troi has no idea who she’s waiting for, or how long she’ll have to do it.

Oh, and there’s also Tasha. She wouldn’t want to forget Tasha.

Troi and Lieutenant Yar - they’re not _together._ They haven’t kissed. They haven’t held hands. They haven’t done anything remotely romantic with each other beyond splitting lunches with each other in the cantina.

And yet.

Troi has known Tasha for years - and as a Betazoid, she can _sense_ this electricity between the two of them. It’s there in the lingering glances they give each other, the over-friendly touches on the shoulders, the late nights spent in each others’ quarters, chatting and laughing and staying so close, _so_ close. They haven’t put a name to any of it yet, haven’t confirmed anything or even really acknowledged its presence, but Troi knows it’s there. She recognizes her attraction. And she also knows that Tasha feels the same way, just as intensely - it’s only that neither of them are saying anything.

She can’t be sure about Tasha, but for Troi, there’s a reason for it.

She hasn’t been with anyone since Will. After they’d split, she’d started thinking, _What if I slip up? What if I fall for someone, and they turn out to not be my Soulmate? What if I don’t want to leave the person I love for the person I’m meant to be with, one side of a double-headed coin?_

The _what-ifs_ had pulled at her, and they still do - she’s afraid to tell Tasha, or anyone at all, that she loves them, because there are simply so many ways it could all go wrong.

  
Troi feels that she can’t afford to risk it.

But there are times when Tasha smiles at her, or squeezes her thigh reassuringly underneath the table during crew meetings, and Troi burns in a way she feels that she’s never burned before.

It isn’t easy.

And there’s a moment, just before she sets off for a conference scheduled with a group of Vulcans on Starfleet’s peace regulations, where Tasha stops her before she boards the shuttle, embraces her and leans in close, so that Troi can feel their blonde hair tickling against her temple.

“Come back safely,” Tasha murmurs into Troi’s ear, beaming good-naturedly and making her shudder. “Who else am I supposed to have slumber parties with?”

“Well, you could always try the Captain,” Troi replies jokingly. “Who knows,maybe _you’re_ his Soulmate.”

Tasha snorts and leans away, hands still on Troi’s shoulders. “The likeliness of that is even less than the likeliness of Data and Geordi realizing their feelings for each other,” she says, and Troi laughs.

“But seriously,” Tasha says, dropping her arms. “Be careful out there.”

Troi shakes her head, grinning. “It’s a Vulcan conference. I don’t imagine I’ll be in any danger.”

Tasha smiles. “Right.”

“Counselor,” Lieutenant Prieto calls from the loading doors. “We really should be going.”

“Well,” Troi says. “Goodbye, Yar.”

Tasha hesitates for the briefest of moments - then they lean forward and kiss Troi high on her cheekbone, quick and fleeting and almost not there at all.

“Goodbye,” they say quietly, and then they leave.

Troi enters the shuttle, brushes her fingers across the plane of her cheek, and wonders why Tasha did it, why now, and what it means.

She can’t be sure, and it eats away at her from the inside out.

The conference goes well, and the Vulcans are perfectly well-rounded and easy to talk to. Troi leaves feeling a sense of accomplishment and self-pride, ready to report her experience to Captain Picard and know, securely, that this particular Vulcan clan won’t cause any issues for Starfleet.

The real trouble begins on the journey back to the Enterprise.

The shuttle is about halfway to the coordinates Geordi had transmitted to them, when something _CLUNKS_ in the engine room.

Troi looks to Prieto worriedly. “What do you think that was?”

Prieto frowns, but shakes his head. “Probably nothing,” he mutters, but Troi can feel the waves of anxiety emanating from him, and she purses her lips together and stares straight ahead into space. She can just see a bit of the planet beneath them, an uninhabited globe, Vagra II, with no known history - at least, not according to their databases.

There’s another _CLUNK._ Prieto swallows, barks, “Mulligan, go take a look back there.”

Mulligan sighs, pushes himself to his feet, and heads back into the engine room. As soon as the doors slide shut behind him, the power cuts out completely.

Red lights flash, and alarms start to blare. Prieto curses and wrestles with the controls, holds down the button to call in to the Enterprise and shouts, “Engine lost! We’re caught in the planet’s gravity!”

A moment later, the Captain’s voice crackles through the speaker. “How much impulse power is left?”

“Not much,” Prieto grunts as he furiously grapples with the helm - the shuttlecraft is starting to list dangerously towards the planet’s atmosphere. “We’ve probably only got a minute or so. Can you warp speed to our location?”

“The crystals are down,” Captain Picard says sternly. “We’ll do what we can.”

Even through the comm, Troi can feel her Captain’s stress levels rising.

“What can I do?” Troi demands helplessly, as the ship gains speed in its fall.

“ _Hold on to something,_ ” Prieto grits out. The shuttle starts to shake, and Troi leaps for her chair, a counter top, a safety handle, _something -_ but with a sudden and terrifying jerk, she’s swept off her feet and onto the floor, and then she feels a sharp pain at the back of her head, and forgets herself.

She comes to some time (minutes? Hours?) later, vision blurry and head reeling dangerously. Troi takes a moment to breathe deep and clear her thoughts, before pulling herself up into a seated position against the ship’s wall and assessing the damage.

There’s a lot of smoke, and it’s quite hot - they’re lucky the fuel gauge didn’t blow. Troi feels too woozy to stand, but from her spot on the floor, she can see through the front shields - they’ve crash-landed on Vagra II, a grey and rocky wasteland with (as far as she can tell) no inhabitants in sight.

Lieutenant Prieto is still in his seat, slumped face-down over the control panel. Troi can’t assess if he’s still breathing or not, but if he is, he’s in critical condition. Mulligan, she can feel, is dead - the doorway to the engine room is completely blocked by fallen bits of steel, and Troi can sense that his life force has gone out.

She wipes a shaking hand across her forehead (it comes back slick with dark blood) and presses two fingers to the badge on her chest.

“This is Troi to Enterprise. Can anyone hear me?”

She pauses a second, but there is no response.

“Troi to Enterprise. Hello? Hello?”

Still nothing.

Troi sighs, closing her eyes briefly. The Captain and the rest of the crew know that the shuttle crashed - they should be coming down for her any second, or as soon as they switch to warp speed. All she has to do is wait, and hopefully for not too long.

And then something says, _Why are you here?_

Troi’s eyelids snap open. For a moment, blinking in the sudden darkness of the craft, she thinks the planet has gone to night - but as her eyes adjust, she notices a sort of blackened skin stretched across the outside of the windshield.

She swallows. “Who - Who are you?”

_I would ask the same of you. You are on_ my _planet. You don’t belong here._

“I am Counselor Deanna Troi of the USS Enterprise,” she states, and frowns at how weak her voice sounds. “My ship has crashed on your planet. I assure you, a team is coming to extract me very shortly. I will not bother you for long.”

The skin pulsates, and Troi senses irritation - but none like she’s ever sensed before, pricklier and spinier than even the cruelest of humanoids.

_If they come for you, they will die,_ the skin tells her. _Outsiders are not welcome here._

Troi shakes her head. “Please - as soon as they arrive, we’ll leave you alone. We truly mean you no harm.”

_No,_ it says, sending forth waves of crimson anger. _You want to take what is mine. I will not let you._

“We don’t want your planet,” Troi reassures. “It belongs to you, and we understand that. This was a mistake. We will leave, and you will never see us again.”

_You lie._

“No, I - “

_Ah,_ the skin says gleefully. _If I am not mistaken, here they come now…_

Troi’s breath catches in her throat. “Please, don’t hurt them - “

_I take no orders from you, Betazoid._

The skin oozes away. Troi has the view out of the shuttle back, but she can’t see any of her friends.

“They’ll be ok,” she mutters to herself. “They’ve faced far worse than mysterious black liquid before.”

She knows this, she does, but she still fears. Fear is one of the strongest emotions of life - Troi has never been able to quite understand it, or rid herself of it.

She sits, and waits. She tries her comm another few times, but receives no response in return. Distantly, she can hear shouting - or maybe she’s simply imagining it.

And then the skin is back, stretching itself over the glass once more.

_Isn’t this peculiar,_ it muses.

“What?” Troi croaks, as her skull gives a particularly painful throb.

_Were you aware that the human was your Soulmate?_ the skin asks. _I don’t think you were._

Troi feels her lips part, and her stomach churn - Her Soulmate, her Soulmate is _here,_ it’s someone on the _crew -_

“You can see the Strings?” she inquires, although that isn’t really her question.

_Yes,_ it says. _I’ve always been able to. Of course, not many drop by here, but when they do…I know. And then I kill them._

Troi takes a quick and shuddering breath. “Whoever they are, please don’t hurt them. Don’t hurt any of them.”

_That’s not a bad idea,_ the skin hums, and chuckles maliciously. _Perhaps I’ll give the one your String connects to a little…_ scare.

“No,” Troi says desperately. “Don’t - “

But it’s gone once again.

Troi swallows roughly, squeezes her eyes shut, and prays. She’s never been the overly-religious type, but if there were ever the time to turn to a higher power, now would be it.

She can’t help but wonder: who is her Soulmate? To whom does the skin refer to when it speaks of her String? Troi has no way of knowing who, exactly, has come to rescue her, but it’s someone she knows, someone she cares for, and there are five possibilities as to whom that might be.

It wouldn’t be Dr. Crusher - Troi doesn’t know for sure, but she’s never sensed anything all too deep or meaningful in the context of their relationship, not outside the realm of platonic care, that is. Beverly has already found and lost her Soulmate, and while it’s possible for someone to have more than one String attached, Troi doubts it would be her.

She feels it couldn’t be Geordi, either. While they are still friends and associates, Geordi is probably the member of the crew that Troi knows the least; that doesn’t rule out the possibility of him being her Soulmate, but…somehow, deep down, she knows it isn’t so.

If it were Captain Picard, Troi feels _sure_ that she would know, and that she might have considered it before now. And anyway, she’s glad that it isn’t - the only love she feels for him is a great deal of respect and duty, nothing even close to romantic attraction.

Which just leaves two variables left: Will and Tasha. Perhaps it’s possible that she and Will _are_ Soulmates after all. Perhaps they just hadn’t realized it at the time.

Or, perhaps, it’s Tasha Yar, with their soft hair and twinkling eyes and full, resounding laugh…and Troi certainly wouldn’t be opposed to calling all that hers.

But all she really knows is that her Soulmate is a human, and not for the first time, she wonders if Lwaxana’s Soulmate was Deanna’s human father, or if her mother has yet to find her other half.

Not that she’s ever given any indication that she _wants_ to.

And suddenly, through her clouded thoughts, Troi feels a sharp and piercing burst of pain - so strong, she finds it hard to locate its source - and then the rising and harried panic of the crew. Something has happened, someone - _Troi’s Soulmate,_ no doubt - has been harmed, and the rescue mission has been thrust into chaos.

Troi knows she can sense it when someone dies, and she waits with bated breath for the sensation, for the drop in the pit of her stomach and for the lump to rise in her throat as the love she might never have truly connected with is murdered; but after a few moments, she feels nothing. Only the pain and panic, the _phobos_ and _deimos,_ still.

The skin returns a third time, trembling with excitement and vim.

_Your friends have deserted you. They’re not coming back._

Troi steels her jawbone. “You’re wrong.”

_I killed one of them. The one that belongs to you. Your Soulmate is dead._

Troi shakes her head. “No, no, they aren’t. I can feel it. They are just badly hurt, but they are still alive.”

_How could you be in there and know that?_ the skin demands.

“I _am_ a Betazoid.”

_Hm. Can you feel them still?_

She tries, but the pain is ebbing away, growing fainter and fainter. “No,” Troi says. “They will have beamed back up to the Enterprise, to the medical bay.”

_Do you want to know why I did it?_

“To torture me,” Troi says with certainty. “To make me lose hope. You wanted to make me ache the way you have ached for so long.”

_No,_ the skin says, amusement clear in the tone of its voice. _No. I did it because I felt like it. The action had no meaning. You humanoids are so quick to assume that everything is about yourselves._

“You have a great need to make other beings suffer,” Troi realizes.

The skin flares. _I need nothing._

“Liar,” Troi echoes. “End this. Let us go. They won’t give you what you want.”

_And what, pray tell, would that be?_

“To break their spirit.”

_Oh, is that it?_ The skin laughs, or tries to, shimmering slightly in the planet’s pale light. _If breaking their spirit will amuse me, then that’s what I will have._

“Never,” Troi whispers, but it has already left her, and Troi, still dizzy with blood-loss, falls asleep.

She wakes again later. She does not know how long she has been out, but her head feels much clearer than it had before. She doesn’t dare stand up, for fear of fainting again.

She can sense the crew nearby. They have returned to Vagra II.

It isn’t long before the skin comes back to her, but she speaks before it can say anything.

“Who abandoned you?” she asks.

The skin shudders. _Creatures whose beauty now dazzles all who see them. They developed a way to collect their imperfections, and form them all into one negative skin, dank and vile._

“You,” Troi says softly.

_Yes._

“They discarded you and left.”

_And here I am._

“You have my pity.”

The skin has no face, but it seems to sneer at her anyway, rattling the shuttlecraft in its anger. _Your pity? Save that for yourself. Your crew has set forth on my planet once more. Your Soulmate is not among them._

Troi swallows. “I would give myself, willingly, if you let them be. Bring them no harm, and I would let you take me for yourself.”

The skin hums. _Perhaps. Ah, another has arrived. Let us see what he has for me._

Light floods the ship as the skin leaves, and Troi hears someone shout, “Deanna, are you all right?”

“Beverly?”

“Yes,” Dr. Crusher says from outside the shuttle, sounding relieved. “We’ve…We’ve encountered some difficulty.”

“I know.” Troi hesitates, then asks, “Who was beamed back up to the Enterprise? Are they all right?”

“It was Yar - she was hit by some sort of energy the slick shot at her. She’s stable, resting in sick bay.”

“Oh,” Troi says, her heart skipping in her chest. “Oh, ok.”

_Tasha_ is her Soulmate. Troi had had her suspicions, but it still comes as a surprise to her - and a welcome one at that.

“Deanna? Deanna, are you ok?”

“Yes,” Troi says quickly, clearing her thoughts. “Yes, I’m fine, Beverly. Just…tired, that’s all.”

“I understand,” Dr. Crusher says. “Captain Picard should be with you shortly.”

“Thank you.”

Not a minute later, the Captain appears - and as he kneels down to see that she is all right, Troi blurts the first thing to come to her mind:

“Yar is my Soulmate.”

The Captain raises his eyebrows. “And you know this, how?”

“The skin,” Troi tells him. “It has the Sight. It told me.”

The Captain looks at her for a moment, before nodding. “Yes…Yes, I suppose it makes sense. Well, we’d better get you up to see your Soulmate then, Counselor. Do you think you can stand?”

“Yes,” Troi says, grabbing onto his forearms to steady herself. “But I will need to beam up shortly.”

He helps her stand. “What about Ben?” he asks, gesturing towards Prieto’s limp form. “And Mulligan?”

“Ben is still alive, but I believe that he’s critical. Mulligan - I sense that Mulligan has died.”

The Captain nods gravely. “When the creature is near here, the field blocking you from transporting weakens - the next time it approaches, we can leave.”

“It weakens because it feels its rage instead of suppressing it,” Troi says. “It was abandoned, a long time ago.”

The Captain’s face sets in the way it does whenever he is determined to accomplish a task, no matter how brutal it may be. “Sit down again,” he tells her. “I will go and reason with the skin.”

So Troi waits, and she thinks about Titans, and Betazoids, and Skins of Evil, and of Yar - Yar and what they mean to Troi, what they’ve always meant to her.

And then she feels a ripple of furious rage, she hears a mangled scream, and she closes her eyes as she is beamed back up to the Enterprise, and away from Vagra II’s dark hold.

She stumbles on the transport pad, head feeling light - an ensign is immediately there to support her, and she leads a half-asleep Troi to the medical bay. Dr. Crusher helps her onto a cot, and Troi just barely catches a glimpse of a head of blonde hair peeking out from under the covers of the bunk next to her, before she passes out completely.

She wakes to someone gently running their fingers down her face, and when she opens her eyes, she sees Yar leaning over her.

They smile. “How are you feeling?”

Troi doesn’t say anything. She just props herself up on her pillows, holds Tasha’s face in her hands, and kisses her, quick and sweet and soft.

Tasha laughs. “What was _that_ for?” she asks, blinking slowly, a light pink hue dusted across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose.

“We’re Soulmates,” Troi says. “That’s why the skin on Vagra II targeted you. It knew, and it wanted to get to you in order to hurt me.”

Tasha grins. “Oh. Is it weird that I’m not surprised?”

“No,” Troi replies warmly. “No, it isn’t.”

“Congratulations,” Dr. Crusher says, stepping forward to administer Troi with a pain reliever. She beams at the pair of them. “I know you two will be very happy together.”

“Yar. Troi,” a deep voice says. “Glad to see that you’ve found each other.”

Troi smiles. “Hello, Worf.”

Tasha reaches out and cuffs Worf’s shoulder affectionately, keeping their fingers laced with Troi’s while they do it. “I knew you’d come by to visit me eventually.”

Worf inclines his head. “Naturally. I’ve still got money riding on you in the martial arts tournament. It would be a shame to have that go to waste.”

Tasha rolls their eyes. “Yeah, yeah, whatever. Admit you’re just a big softie.”

Worf raises an eyebrow. “I’m not the one holding hands with my Soulmate at the moment. I’m shocked it took you so long to figure it out.”

Troi frowns. “Worf…did you _know_ that Tasha and I were Soulmates?”

Tasha looks to him questioningly. Out of the corner of her eye, Troi notices Dr. Crusher pause her work to listen in.

Troi feels that Worf is confused, though it barely shows beyond his perpetual scowl on his face. “Yes? I have always had the Sight. Many Klingons do. I was under the impression that you were all aware of this.”

“No?” Tasha says, shaking her head, but still smiling. “Worf, I don’t think any of us had any idea.”

Troi chuckles. “Why wouldn’t you think to tell us?”

Worf shrugs. “It is not a matter of great importance to Klingons. We tend to find our true Soulmates without the aid of Sight, even if we have the ability.”

Troi shakes her head. “Well. At least we know, anyway.”

Tasha beams at her. “Yes. At least we know.”

Troi squeezes her Soulmate’s hand, and feels within herself a sensation of tranquility, her goal finally achieved at last.

**Author's Note:**

> #justiceforyar
> 
> sometimes i talk about star trek on my [tumblr](https://connorswhisk.tumblr.com), but i post about a lot of stuff so you should follow me regardless ;)


End file.
